


Starfish

by UncoherentTheBarbarian



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, Mental Breakdown, Not Happy, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncoherentTheBarbarian/pseuds/UncoherentTheBarbarian
Summary: Established Rizzles goes off the rails in a big way when Jane and Maura apparently have conflicting views on a sex act. This is NOT a happy story. Starts with a relationship, ends in separation. This will not make you feel good. I wrote this to unload it from my mind and I really wish I had never thought of it.This is anti-fluff





	1. I want this

Maura placed the strap-on on the coffee table and looked Jane in the eyes, tilting her head for emphasis.

"I really want to try this. With you. I have asked you _so_ many times."

"Maura, I have a problem with those." Jane wasn't doing the cutesy Jane Whine, she sounded serious and focused.

"I can't see why. We use other toys and you have no problem with them."

"Yeah, but that... thing is different. I can't express myself right now because I haven't tried to think it through, but there is something about the strap-on that's just wrong for me."

"Do I not deserve a better explanation? I want to experience this with you. I want to feel this with YOU. Why do you still think that I am going to break if you get rough with me?"

"I don't think you're gonna break, but there's rough and there's rough. Can't you think of something else you want to try with me?"

"Not until you have given me a good answer. I have an idea: think this through and then call me. I am going home." Maura huffed in annoyance and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

Jane was left sitting in her sofa in her messy living room, staring at the strap-on like it was an alien invader. She was thinking hard. She was not happy. She was feeling cornered.

\- # -

Maura was surprised to not hear from Jane all Friday evening. Perhaps she had been a tad too aggressive. She couldn't see how this was such a big deal, it was just a toy among others. The only difference was that it changed their dynamic a bit, it was more forceful. It temporarily turned one party into a pseudo-male and for once she wanted that feeling but she wanted _Jane_ to be her male sex partner. It wasn't a permanent change, she would take it off and still be Jane and they would go back to their usual more careful and gentle lovemaking. Just for once, she wanted a bit of roughage in her diet. They had been together for over a year, it was not that much to ask for after a year of timid waiting and polite asking.

Saturday rolled around and Maura kept busy with weekly laundry and cleaning, feeling a Jane-shaped gap in her routines and around noon she decided that if Jane hadn't called her by three o'clock she would cave and check how her fiancee was doing. This was a minor thing after all, just a fantasy among others, nothing to lose sleep over. She spent some time indulging in said fantasy, building up her favorite scenarios. If she couldn't have it in reality, the fantasy was still hers to enjoy as she pleased without inconveniencing anyone.

At two o'clock her doorbell rang. She opened the door and saw Jane stand on her porch, wearing a long coat over jacket and pants.

"May I come in?"

"Always, you know that. You are my _girlfriend_ , you can come and go as you like. This is your home too."

"Today I might not be your girlfriend." Maura frowned. This sounded odd.

Jane stepped in, dropped the coat and pulled down the zipper to fish out the strapon.

"Oh." Maura felt her face, among other things, heat up.

"Ma'am, is this what you want?"

"Yes, it's just like I imagined it but what changed your mind?"

"I spent some time thinking about it. Do you want this or the explanation?" Jane gestured toward the plastic dick.  
Maura felt little sparks of excitement all over her body. The dream about “masculine Jane” had been with her longer than they had been together and seeing it solidified was quite literally a dream coming true.

"Sex first, talk later."

"Whatever you say, ma'am. I'm here to serve you."

"Over the back of the sofa, perhaps?"

"Makes no difference to me. Let's do it." Maura heard something ring strange in that statement, but she was too caught up in the moment to care.

She grabbed the plastic phallus like a handle and led Jane into the living room. She shimmied out of her slacks and leaned gracefully over the sofa, presenting herself to Jane in her newly minted male form. While Maura did her trouser drop Jane rolled a lubricated condom onto the shaft and stepped into position. She guided the dildo home, eased in the first inch or so and then slid the rest of it in with a single slow stroke. Maura gasped as she was suddenly filled and deliciously stretched. Jane settled in a strong rhythm, working it in and out. She didn't undress like she used to, she didn't touch Maura the way she used to. Maura was focused on the stretching and sliding, the delicious rub of her insides. The building pressure. She loved the one-off contrast to their usual softer lovemaking. She started bucking back against the strokes, making them deeper and stronger. Jane responded and increased the force.

Maura was groaning Jane's name like a mantra over and over again, spurring her on. She was missing their normal intimacy but this was an interesting variation, the only connection between them was the dick, the cock, the intruding piece of plastic as Jane almost but not quite violated her oh-so-willing body. It was literally what the doctor ordered. Her legs were trembling, in part because of the unfamiliar position and in part because of the orgasm that was forming deep in her guts.

"Yes, Jane, yes. More! Harder!" Jane obliged, grabbing handfuls of Maura's shirt to give herself leverage. She had not said a word since she started thrusting. Part of Maura's analytical mind was wondering what this part of the role-play meant, but her rapidly approaching orgasm overruled the line of thought as she started spasming. Jane kept pounding a few seconds and then held, leaving the still impaled Maura to crest and come down. She stood perfectly still, waiting for some sign that her girlfriend had recovered.

Maura still felt deliciously filled. She felt Jane's hips against her buttocks, and the heat radiating through her clothes. She was happy, this was exactly what she had wanted. Rough but not really hard, forceful but not hurtful. Manly but not male. She was perfectly content.   
After a few more moments of afterglow she slid forward off the toy and turned toward Jane to hug her. Jane leaned back, avoiding her grasp and confusing her.

"Are we done with this for tonight?"

"Unless you want another go with it?" Maura attempted a sultry tone and saw it fall flat.

"I'd rather not." Jane reached into her pants and pulled the dildo free from the harness, dropping it on the floor. "Can we talk now? I figured out why I don't like this."

"Yes, of course we can Jane. Are you upset?" Jane responded with a cold, lopsided grin and Maura suddenly realized that something was off. Very badly off.

"Do you want to know why I dislike these things? They are not like me. They are impersonal. They are not _part of_ me. I felt NOTHING."

"But I loved it Jane, it was fantastic!" Maura tried to express her feelings but struggled to find an explanation for what she had wanted.

"It was like doing squats. I never touched you, I never talked to you, there was no interaction. It wasn't even you using me to masturbate, which I love. It was you using this _thing_ to masturbate. I just happened to be in the room. I didn't even get a good workout. But you liked it."

"No, that's not true Jane! It was all about you taking me, that's what I wanted all along."

"It's not what I wanted. I wanted to hold you and love you and be a part of you, always. This was the exact opposite. This was a... a meat thing. Nothing personal, not loving. This was nothing. I wasn't part of it, I was not involved. This could have been anyone." She sighed. A ragged, shaky sigh.

"But Jane, I never knew you felt like this."

"No, you chose fucking over talking as soon as you saw it. Of course you didn't know. Well, now you do. I serviced you well, and _then_ we got to talking. Aren't I a good little handyman?" She sounded more bitter by the second.

"Jane, I never wanted to upset you..."

"You keep saying that word, but do you know what it sounds like now?"

"What?" Maura was completely thrown by the question.

"You say 'Jane' but I hear 'good dog'. I'm going home. I'll call you when I've got my head around this. I'll leave my stand-in so you won't get bored."

Jane zipped her fly over the harness and walked out the front door, closing it carefully and leaving a stunned Maura alone in the living room staring at the piece of plastic on the floor.


	2. Derailment

Maura spent a large part of Saturday evening crying. This had gone horribly wrong and the temporary Jane-shaped hole in her life felt even emptier after their short but intense lovemaking session. She wanted to call, but thought it might be better if Jane got a chance to cool down and get some distance from this disaster.

They had had arguments before, of course, but never anything serious. Maura could still not accept that this was something to be upset about, it was just a toy for heavens sake. A spice to their usual routine and an old fantasy come alive. She went to bed at ten, waiting for the phone to ring.

Sunday came around, in silence. Maura finished the weekend chores and the phone stayed mum.

She was poking at her Sunday lunch when the phone finally rang, but with the wrong signal. It was Frankie, not Jane.

"Hey Maura, I really hate to ask but have you two had some kind of meltdown?"

"We had a bit of an argument, but nothing serious."

"Are you sure? You know how Jane feels about Ma and relationships and when she spends all Sunday morning crying her eyes out against Ma's shoulder it kinda counts as serious I think."

"She WHAT? But it was nothing!"

"Maybe it was nothing to you but I think it was _something_ to Jane. Last time I saw her anywhere near this upset was when you got engaged to Ian and the thought she'd lost you forever. And she looked a LOT worse now."

"Is she there, can I come over and talk to her?"

"No, she left half an hour ago and she didn't look at all happy. She had stopped crying but there was something in her eyes and she and Ma did a lot of yelling at each other right at the end. You might want to get hold of her and have a couple of words. Ma's doing the dishes and it sounds like she's trying to break them with the brush."

"I will, I promise."

"You know we love you, but whatever went down hit Jane really hard. Maybe you could steer clear of Ma for a while until you've worked out whatever differences you have. She can be a bit protective..."

"I will. I love Jane. I will fix whatever upset her."

"I wish I could believe that it will be that easy. Can you keep me posted on what's happening?"

"Of course. Thank you for telling me, Frankie."

"Just don't tell anyone that I called, OK? It might get me on the outs with Jane and I don't think she needs that right now." Maura cringed when she though that she might upset Jane's relationship with her brother.

"Not a word, I promise."

She hung up and immediately hit speed-one. Five rings went through, and were finally replaced with the short beep that meant "call rejected". She looked at the phone like it had tried to bite her. This had never happened before. Even when Jane had been beside herself with jealousy over Ian she had always picked up the phone. This was different. Something bigger was happening here, and Maura had no idea what it might be. She pondered whether it was a good idea to drive over to Jane's apartment and try to reason with her right now or give her another afternoon to cool down. They would definitely meet when they arrived at work next morning. Maybe it would be better to reason over lunch, using the people in the lunch restaurant as dampers for whatever drama was unfolding beyond her knowledge.

It seemed to be the wise choice. Wait for Monday, have lunch together, reason it out like adults. She spent the afternoon reading, then went to bed alone and looked up at the ceiling, feeling how big and cold her bed had suddenly become.


	3. Bird leaves the coop

On Monday morning Maura went to work alone, did a quick run-through of new developments over the weekend and after an hour of paperwork felt updated enough to have earned some personal time. She rode the elevator up to Homicide and walked into the bullpen to check in with Jane. Her desk was empty.

"Where is Jane?"

"She took some leave, I think. She didn't tell you?" Korsak looked up with mild concern.

"She took a vacation with no warning?"

"Cavanaugh said something about saved vacation days, but he was being evasive. Do you think she's gone undercover somewhere?"

"She hasn't said anything about that to me. Have you seen her today?"

"Yeah, she was in for about five minutes at seven o'clock but she went straight into Cavanaugh's office and argued with him, and then she left. Never even sat down at her desk."

"If she is undercover he can't talk about it. I am getting worried. I will check her apartment. If she comes back while I am gone, please ask her to call me."

"OK, doc. I'll see you later."

Maura rode the elevator to the ground floor and went out to grab a taxi instead of driving herself and losing time hunting for parking space around Jane's apartment. She let herself in with the key Jane had given her when they became an official couple.

The apartment was dark and quiet. Maura turned on the lights and took quick stock if anything was missing. She realized it was much more organized than she had ever seen it before. It was like Jane had spent the weekend getting rid of all clutter and dust and a lot of personal stuff. Instead of being a messy chaos it was spotless. It was _eerie_. This was nothing like Jane.

Maura picked up her phone and hit speed-one as usual, then almost dropped it when she heard her ringtone from the kitchen. The phone was here, but not the owner. She used the ringing to locate the phone, and found it in a cupboard. Next to it was the key to Maura's house. She felt a chill in her heart.

She walked to the front door to leave and realized there was a key on the carpet. Someone had locked the door and tossed the key through the mail slot, but it had fallen through the mail basket and she had stepped over it in the darkness when she entered. Whoever had locked the door did not plan to come back. It had to be Jane, leaving all possessions, including her phone and Maura's key.   
She rushed back to the office.

Cavanaugh was sitting behind his desk looking depressed when Maura stormed in and started asking questions at a million words per minute. He dropped the report he was reading and waited patiently for her to run out of air, then started talking as she paused to draw breath.

"Jane quit. I had nothing to do with it. I could not stop her. She just wanted out."

"What? She cannot quit just like that, she has to leave four weeks notice!"

"She had _fifty-two_ vacation days saved. She traded them all for the right to walk away right now instead of staying even till lunch. She was that eager to get out."

"Did she say why?"

"Only that she had nothing left in Boston. I think she's moving somewhere else, but I have no idea where. What happened between the two of you? When you went home on Friday you both looked peachy. Now she looked and sounded like everyone had died on her and you look shellshocked. Did she cheat on you or something?"

Maura felt her knees go weak as the words hit home and she half fell, half sat in one of the visitor's chairs. That glorious strap-on session was something totally different to Jane. It was proof to her that _anyone_ could give Maura what she wanted, she didn't need _Jane_ at all. They had not even touched each other during the whole act. As Jane saw it, she had provided nothing. To Maura it was the opposite, it was Jane using the masculine aspects of herself to give her something other than the tender love Jane was used to giving her. And that was another problem: Jane wanted to be tender and intimate, not raw and powerful.

From Jane's perspective, Maura might as well have cheated and not only that, she had used Jane as a mannequin to do the cheating. It had all been mechanics and no feelings. In fact, Jane had not even used her name while she was wearing the damned thing. And Maura had _complimented_ Jane on her performance, rubbing it in! Maura bent over and put her head between her knees to fight a dizzy spell. She had ruined everything.

Cavanaugh was talking to her, but she couldn't understand the words. She fished her phone out of the purse and dialed Frankie, rudely ignoring Cavanaugh,

"Frankie, do you have any idea where Jane has gone?"

"What do you mean 'gone'? Isn't she at work?"

"She _resigned today_! I went to her place and she is not there. She left her phone and keys and everything else and just vanished. Do you know ANYTHING about this?"

"Only that she looked destroyed Sunday morning. What happened Maura? What did you fight over?"

"I cannot tell you but I think I made the biggest mistake of my life. I need to get hold of her to apologize! Can you try to find her?"

"I'll try. What should I tell her?"

"Just that I am so very sorry that I got everything wrong, and that I want to talk to her. I NEED to talk to her."

"OK, I'll get back to you."

Cavanaugh looked at her. "You had some kind of lover's quarrel and it cost me one of the best detectives I've ever worked with?"

"It was a simple misunderstanding but as it happened it turned into a huge mistake. I read a situation wrong and Jane took it hard."

"And it ends up being my loss. I'm not happy about this, Dr Isles."

"I may have lost the love of my life, I am not happy either."

"So FIX it."

"I will try, believe me. I will call you as soon as I talk to her."

"You do that. Take Frankie as a help for today, but if you get no results he goes back to regular homicide activities tomorrow morning. We can't spend more time looking for someone who's not actually a missing person."

"But she is your employee!"

"No, she isn't. She gave that up, and her pension and insurance and everything else. She's a civilian now, not even a beat cop. I have her badge and gun in my desk."

Once again Maura felt a chill in her core. Jane had always wanted to be a cop, it was her only goal. Giving that up meant that she was more unhinged than Maura had thought. This _was_ a disaster.

She excused herself and ran out to search for her missing fiancee.


	4. Dissolution

She found Frankie hours later, sitting outside the precinct building, drinking coffee. He was lost in deep thoughts and it took him a moment to notice that she was standing right next to him.

"Hi, Maura. I found Jane." He sighed. "What the hell did you do to each other?"

"It is complicated and it is all my fault. I misunderstood something and then I misinterpreted her reaction."

"A _misunderstanding?_ She's leaving. She's leaving Boston. She _gave me the apartment_ and told me to throw away anything I don't feel like keeping."

"What did she tell you?"

"That you had a falling out. That you had _both_ been _unfaithful_. That you were dead to each other. That she can't stand the idea of staying here. She can't stand the idea of meeting her own family again. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, MAURA?"

"I pressured her into doing something and I had no idea it meant this much to her."

"What in the world did you push her into? Were you pimping her out or something? I've seen her take on all kinds of heinous shit at work but never react like this." He obviously didn't mean the jab about pimping, but the words still stung. Maura had no idea how she could explain any of the things that had happened without making everything worse.

"I wanted something but I did not understand how much it would hurt her. It seemed such a small thing."

"Well, it wasn't. Something went wrong with Ma during the Sunday weep-a-thon as well. I think Ma said something without thinking, as usual, but this time Jane had no defenses up and got really hurt. That's why she's leaving us all. She won't tell me where she is going, because she knows I'll try to contact her. She's staying in Boston until she's found a place to live wherever she's going, and then she'll be gone for good."

"Where is she now?"

"She made me promise not to tell you. She does NOT want to talk to you. Or me. Or the people at work. Damn, I'll have to think of a way to explain this to Frost. Korsak has seen people come and go and he's used to people burning out, but she's _mentoring_ Frost. How do I tell her fresh partner that she can't stand the idea of seeing him again?"

"You have to give me a chance to talk to her, to explain myself."

"Fine by me but not by her. She said if I tried to contact her again she'll split _without_ having a place to go. I've seen her angry a million times but this is something else. This is... I don't know what it is. She didn't even sound like herself."

"Frankie, please. I have to speak to her just once. Do not tell me where she is staying, keep your promise but give me an idea where I can run into her on neutral ground. I need just five minutes."

"I really doubt it would make any difference. I'll tell you this: she was heading for the northern Whole Foods near the park when I left her. You can always stake out the store, but I have no idea how often she'll go there."

"Thank you, Frankie. I owe you a favor."

"You owe me a lot more. You owe me a sister, Maura."

"I know. I am sorry." She turned and walked away.

\- # -

Maura took a week off and did what Frankie had suggested: she staked out the Whole Foods store. The week passed, and she took another week off. On the ninth day of staring at the store entrance through her windshield someone knocked on her passenger window. Jane.

Or someone who looked a bit like Jane. She had always been very trim and lean but now she was gaunt. She was obviously not eating well, and she had dark rings under her eyes. She looked like a junkie. Maura rolled down her window, thinking it would be less threatening than stepping out.

"Hello, Jane. I miss you."

"Hello, meat girl. Why bother?" Maura flinched at the matter-of-fact tone.

"I love you Jane. Please come home, I am so sorry. I did something stupid and I wish I could undo it."

"Don't, it's fine. The thing I thought we had, turns out we never had it. I was delusional and couldn't read the signs. I should have known better. Well, now I do."

"That is not true! I understand that you are upset with me but please do not take it out on your family. They are your flesh and blood."

"No, I don't think so. Ma went nuts and blamed me for every bad thing in the world when I tried to talk to her on Sunday. Frankie obviously told you where to find me after promising to keep his mouth shut. Tommy's a crook. Why would I want to see either of you?" She looked up over the roof of the car, gazing into the distance. "I think us plastic people should stay away from you meat people. We don't have much in common. We don't play well together."

"We have _everything_ in common, Jane. We have been lovers for a year and partners long before that. I want you in my life."

"Pick someone else, I'm done with this. Pick Frankie. I'm moving tonight."

"You found somewhere to live?"

"No, you found _me_ , so it's time to go. Bye, meat girl. Please be a stranger." And Jane walked off without looking back.


	5. Aftermath

Almost a year later Frankie came into the morgue, newspaper in hand. Philadelphia Vice had made a major bust against traffickers and had saved over a dozen eastern-european girls from being rented out by the hour. There was a photo of four officers who had coordinated the sting. One of them was labeled as 'PG Riche' in the text under the picture. Tall, hollow cheeked and emaciated with a spiky haircut. Jane was all but unrecognizable. She was turned a bit sideways from the camera, probably to obscure her features, but it had backfired since it made her profile extra sharp and that was the one feature that hadn't changed.

"She changed her name and look, that's why we couldn't find her."

"She is a police officer again, but back in vice. She hated working in vice." Maura stared at the picture.

"Maybe it's the easiest way in? Nobody wants to work vice. I wonder what PG stands for."

"It might be 'Plastic Girl' but I really do not like to guess."

”That actually means something to you?”

”Yes, it does.” She refused to elaborate.

”I'm going there to meet her.”

”Is that wise?”

”I have to try.”

\- # -

Frankie followed the signs to the side building housing Philadelphia Vice North, the team responsible for the trafficking bust, and asked the uniform at the lobby desk if PG Riche was in. She was. He went through a metal detector and patdown and was ushered into a meeting room that held the coffee machine and doubled as an improvised break area. Jane was sitting there, listening to a pair of colleagues. She had lost a lot of weight that she really couldn't afford to lose, and she no longer looked like a junky. She now looked anorexic. Apparently she still bought clothes the same size as when she took off, and they hung loose off her new angular frame. The spiky mop of black hair looked nothing like the long Jane Rizzoli mane. She looked up and saw him, and waved him over.

”Hey Frankie. You found me.”

”Yeah, that took some work.”

”Who's your friend PG?” A stocky guy in a grey vest and pants looked over Frankie with no enthusiasm.

”This is Frank Rizzoli of Boston Homicide. Used to be my kid brother in a previous life. Always stood up for me until he turned snitch for my ex.” She said it with no emotion.

”She still loves you. She misses you terribly.”

” _You_ have a brother and an _ex_? Where did all this come from? I thought you had no friends?”

”Like I said, a previous life. I did some stupid shit and when I figured out what a rube I'd been, I left. Changed my name, came here, started over with fewer mistakes. No friends to trip me up. The new American dream.”

”Sis, I'd really like to have a word with you. We haven't heard anything in a whole year. Everyone is worried sick.”

”Sure, Frankie. Go in there, find my desk and sit down. I'll just clean up here and come over. We can go get a burger and talk.” She pointed to the squad room, through the corridor and a wall.

”OK, I'll be waiting. You know, we all miss you.”

”Sure you do. Is _she_ here too?”

”Just me. I promise, Jane. Just me.”

”U-huh. I'll be with you in a little while.”

Frankie went to the squad room and asked for her desk, then settled down. There was nothing familiar there. No traces of Jane Rizzoli. No sports memorabilia. No family snaps. This was PG Riche's desk and she didn't believe in clutter. He looked at the desktop of her computer. A lonely MP3 titled ”my song” was stuck in the bottom right hand corner among work documents. He pressed it, it started to play. ”God says no” by Monster Magnet. Lyrics started to scroll over the player window.

_We go on our way_  
Just waiting for that lucky day  
I tried every way  
Just so that God can blow me away  
  
I need some love  
To start the show  
But ask just once  
And God says no  
  
A lot of dust slides through my head  
Scary thoughts like wishing we were dead  
You won't get caught if you don't get queer  
And you'll be ready for a new frontier

Not happy music. Frankie suddenly had an epiphany, jumped up and ran back to the break room. No way a person that thin would go out for a burger with anyone. No way Jane would trust him again after he told Maura where to find her. He rushed into the room. No trace of Jane/PG.

”Hey, bro.” It was one of the colleagues. ”I got a message from PG before she took off. You want to hear it?”

”Yeah. Where did she go?”

”No idea, she just told me she was going out and wanted a five minute head start. She said 'If he's here, she's not far behind and I'm not going near her again. He only gets so sell me out once.' and she looked fucking grim. That make any sense to you?”

”Damn!”

”Whoever that lady is she must have hurt PG real bad. I've never met anyone so afraid of connecting with people. She won't even shake hands or stand close to others. Never touches anyone, always wears gloves. Germophobe, I guess?”

”She used to be different. The gloves are camouflage. She hurt her hands and has scars.”

”Who was she before? You called her Jane?”

”Jane Rizzoli, ace homicide detective in Boston and my big sister. Awarded for bravery twice.”

”Wow. What happened?”

”I have no idea, and I don't think I'll ever find out.”

"Now a question that I really want to hear an answer to: What the fuck is  _your_ part in this? What did  _you_ do to  _my_ colleague?" _  
_

_\- # -_

”She did it again, Maura. Vanished while I was sitting in the next room. Just up and walked out of her job, didn't say anything to anyone, didn't even quit. After an hour of me explaining the background they told me where she lived and I went there with a colleague. I don't know if she went back and cleaned it out before I got there or if she never had anything in the first place. None of her colleagues were ever allowed in. The place was four bare walls and a bed. She didn't even own a carpet.”

”When she lived here at least ten people had keys to her apartment. She had lots of friends.”

”It's like Jane died a year ago and this new person inherited her body. And whoever's in it now doesn't give a shit about it either. She's really thin. Not just slim like she used to be, you can almost hear her rattle when she moves.”

”Can we put a BOLO out on her?”

”For what? PG Riche never broke any laws, and neither did Jane Rizzoli. There's nothing to hang a BOLO on. She paid cash for everything, had no loans, left no traces.”

”We killed her again.”

”What?”

”I destroyed the first Jane Rizzoli and the body walked away. Then you found her again so she shed PG Riche to vanish a second time. We can keep doing this forever, or until she actually kills herself. We have to stop.”

”Are you kidding? I can't give up on my sister!”

”She does not want us. Looking for her only hurts her again and forces her to uproot and move further away.”

”You love Jane! I can't believe you're talking like this. Aren't you going to fight for her?”

”I love Jane, but I obviously did not understand her. I was stupid and I gave her some kind of mental breakdown and she abandoned her whole life just to get away from me. I think the best way of showing her respect is to stop trying to find her. I am ready to end this and just mourn her.”

”That's just wrong!”

”I have hurt her enough. If you ever find her again, please tell her this.”

”So now you're just going to find someone else and go on with your life?”

”No, I think I have done enough damage to people. I am engaged to Jane and I will stay engaged to Jane. No need to repeat these mistakes and hurt someone else.”

”I can't believe you're talking like this. You're withdrawing from life, just like her. You barely talk to me, you _never_ talk to Ma, you have no social contacts with anyone!”

”Frankie, what could I say to your mother? I made her only daughter run away. And without Jane, what is the _point_ of anything?”


	6. Remodel

Eighteen months after the PG Riche incident  Brookline was host to a conference for Child Services workers from all over the US. Nobody in Homicide paid attention, with one exception. Lt Vince Korsak, new head of Homicide, kept an eye on the booking lists. He had never given up on having a last conversation with whatever remained of his favorite protegé. When he saw the name Polly G Tunn in a list he took a closer look. Five minutes of background check was enough. He set a reminder in his calendar, and the morning of the first conference day he was in attendance.

He almost missed her. PG Tunn was rail-thin, had light brown highlights in her hair and pale grey eyes, but he recognized tinted contacts when he saw them and he just nodded at her when she got close to him. She was listening to a pair of colleagues and started visibly when she saw him.

“Hello PG. Long time no see.”

“Hello Vince. Are you alone?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want a word with you.”

“About _what_?” Her tone turned harsh.

“Anything you feel like talking about. I just want to meet you. No obligations, no crap. Just the two of us and a table.”

PG:s colleagues were staring at them.

“I'm heading in. Work to do.”

“Tell you what, PG. I'll be here when you get out after this session. If you want to have a word, come over. If you don't, I'll walk away. I'll wait for half an hour in case you change your mind. You decide.”

“I'll think about it. If I see _her_ I'll fade again. Don't doubt me.”

“I've never doubted you. I'll be in the cafeteria.”

PG went in, leaving Korsak and co-workers outside.

“I'll be damned, the Queen of the Dead actually has a living friend. Or frienemy, maybe.”

“What did you call her?”

“Queen of the Dead. Ice Queen. Whatever. She has NO friends, and she spends a lot of time walking around cemeteries after work. Queen of the Dead.”

“If you want to find out just how hard she can hit you, try calling her that to her face.”

“You saying she can take me?”

“I'm saying that I know for a fact she shot three people back in the day and none of them complained later. Get my drift?”

“Jesus. OK, I'll keep my distance. What are you two to each other, anyway?”

“We've met earlier. I work for Boston Homicide. You sure you want to butt in and be a part of this?”

“Hell no. I don't need more aggravation in my life.”

“How long have you worked with her? Off the record.”

“Six months or so. She's shit at socializing so we only meet at work. She has no social contacts and she doesn't want any either. She in trouble with you guys? Off the record?”

“Don't worry, I won't take her away from you. She's not wanted in this state.”

“This just gets creepier. Bye detective, good luck with PG.”

\- # -

Two hours later a flood of social workers poured out of the seminar hall, heading for coffee and smokes. Korsak sat at a table of his own, keeping the chair next to him free and apparently the only person in the building reading an actual printed newspaper. Twenty minutes of the half-hour break passed before PG Tunn dropped into the seat next to him, looking edgy and keeping her eyes moving over the crowd. Korsak knew what she was looking for.

“I didn't tell her. I promise.”

“Promises are cheap.”

“Not mine.”

She had no answer to that. Korsak pushed a paper cup in her direction.

“I bought you this, but it's been sitting here a while so it's probably cold now.”

“Who cares. Cold works.” She pulled the lid off the cup and took a gulp of the lukewarm drink.

“You OK?”

“Don't I look OK?”

“No. I think I liked the first version better.”

“Too bad you were the only one.”

“I wasn't, but let's not talk about that. Keep focused on current affairs instead.”

“Yeah, let's.”

“Frost is gone. He was really good but he tried to negotiate a thing and someone shot a hole through him. He lived, but never regained full mobility. Medical discharge. Got the pension.”

“Damn. I actually missed Frost and you. Now it's just you.”

“You mean you don't miss Crowe?”

“Quitting Homicide to become a social worker might actually be worth it just to get away from that shithead.” She grinned, but it was a cold grin and her eyes kept scanning the crowd, looking for blonde hair.

“Why did you seek me out, Vince? You wanna force me to dump another life and run again?”

“No, I just want to know how you're doing. This version of you has only been around eight months or so, where were you before?”

“Detroit, but someone came looking for me and I split. Was it one of you guys?”

“Not that I know. Frankie is looking off-and-on, but your Ma made up her mind that you left for Canada or something and... _she_... just quit searching for you and decided to leave you alone.”

“Really.” She actually sneered.

“She still wears the ring. Has a picture of Jane in a black frame on her desk.”

“The mourning widow? After what she did, she actually thinks someone is going to buy that? Oh, who am I kidding. Of course they would. Everyone likes her version.”

“Hey, nobody knows what you two did to each other and personally I don't care. She never talked about it. All I want to know is that you're at least doing OK. Let's not focus on the others, please. I don't want to scare you off. Please don't run again.”

“I will if I see _her_ , or any of the other assholes.”

“Are you going in for the next lecture round?”

“No, I'm taking the rest of the day off. They can fire me if they feel like it, I'll just move somewhere else. I feel too exposed here, though. If we're going to talk we'll go somewhere with better cover.”

“Sure, let's have a beer together.”

“No beer. Can't afford to lose my edge. I need to be clear-headed if I have to take off.”

“I'm sorry to say this but you sound a bit paranoid, PG.”

“ _She's_ never touching me again. Never. Nobody has _ever_ hurt me that bad. I'll kill myself rather than get close again.”

“Whoa, back down. We're not talking about her now. Let's go somewhere and eat something. You look like you could use it.”

“Nah, I'm over that. Eating is for people. Fun thing: It only hurts for the first three weeks.”

“What?”

“When you stop eating. Three weeks in you no longer feel the hunger, as long as you don't actually starve. Stay on a steady flow of about 750-1000 cals per day, keeps you smooth and controlled and _sharp_.”

Korsak's head swam for a moment. “You trying to kill yourself by malnutrition?”

“No, just trying to keep my focus.”

“OK, soup for you and healthy chicken for me. Let's find a restaurant.”

\- # -

They sat in a booth at the back of Mama Chun's. PG got a bowl of sweet and sour vegetable soup. Korsak got a dumplings-and-chicken combo. They talked. PG talked about her job saving kids from junkie parents. Korsak talked about working out who had shot worthless local dope dealers or stabbed valuable tourists. They agreed that they would still make one hell of a team, even with PG:s new life and job. He noticed that she had changed her movement patterns, probably to make it harder to recognize her in a crowd. With her new emaciated look and jumpy moves she reminded him of a marionette.

“Ever think about coming back to Boston?”

“About two seconds every month, and then I hyperventilate for half an hour and I'm cured for a couple of weeks. There is nothing but pain in Boston."

“Was there anyone who didn't hurt you when you were here?”

“ _You_ never hurt me. Just about everyone else was involved in it, one way or another. Ma took _her_ side when I discovered that I always had been just a damn toy to her. Frankie snitched on me. Frost always liked _her_ more than me. The PD in general would always side with _her_ because she's who she is and she looks like that, and I'm just me. No contest.”

“I don't think that's true, but I won't argue the point. You made a choice, I respect that.”

“Thanks. It actually feels good to hear it from you. You may be the only one who did respect me in the end.”

“I think you're wasted working as anything but a cop, you know. You were one hell of a detective.”

“Cops are too visible, wasn't that how you found me the first time? Frankie is probably going through personnel files looking for suspicious cop names in his spare time.”

“Sounds likely.”

“You mind telling me how you found me?”

“I'm a very good detective. Frankie's just good. If you were sticking with the PG moniker but staying out of the cop business I thought social worker and family services in particular would be high on the list.”

“I need to be something else next time. Sales clerk or something.”

“You can't deny who you... what your skill is. The cop I knew might be gone but your talent for digging out the truth won't switch off. You'd go nuts working in sales.”

“You don't think I'm nuts now?”

“A little. Not enough to bother me.”

“Comforting.”

“Can I say something? Friendly suggestion, no pressure?”

“About meat people?”

“You'll have to explain that to me sometime. About your family.”

“Don't care.” It was not obvious if this was an instruction or a statement.

“It could be helpful for you. My thought is if you send your family a message they can relax, knowing that you have moved on somewhere. They could stop looking for you. You could give them some closure and peace of mind.”

“Why would I want to give them _closure_?”

“You really hate them that much?”

“After what _she_ did to Jane, _they sided with her_.” PG was getting agitated.

“Please calm down, I'm not trying to-”

“Fuck this. It was very cool meeting you, but I can hear my train coming. See you sometime in the future, detective. Have a nice life.” She tossed a twenty on the table and stalked off, all angular momentum and nervous tics. Korsak followed her with his eyes as she disappeared into the street crowd. Her bowl of soup was barely touched.


	7. Good night, and good riddance

The final encounter with the person formerly known as Jane Rizzoli came another two years down the line. Korsak found her again, using a couple of young computer-savvy interns to set up a filter to sieve through employment records and find people in social services with existence-challenged backgrounds. He found her in Los Angeles, working as a mid-level manager in Child Welfare. She was no longer PG Something, she was Catherine Something. Her photo on the CW website had been 'shopped but enough of that stunning bone structure shone through. Korsak wondered if this was the first time someone had _added_ blemishes to her portrait.

He thought about flying out, but decided that a phone call would be less intimidating.

“Hello, Catherine. My name is Vince Korsak, calling from Boston homicide. Can you spare me a minute?” He heard a small gasp, then ten seconds of silence.

“Is anyone coming for me?”

“No. Not even me. I've told no-one.”

“How did you find me this time? How do I get you people to stop doing this?"

“Child Welfare again. A bunch of script kiddies ran a huge computer search for me and found you because you have no paper trail. I'm paying one of them to create one for you right now. For a hundred bucks he'll fill in some gaps in your resumé. Library card, parking permits, shady exams from a couple of places. Reduce your exposure.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I loved Jane back then. You were my friend. Of course I'd help a friend to stay away from trouble.”

“That was someone else, you don't know me.”

Korsak looked at the website photo of a shock-blonde and tanned woman in a short bob haircut.

“No, but I think I could be your friend again if I put my mind to it.”

“I doubt it. There's not much friend material left in me.”

“I talked to... Jane's ex about a year ago and she talked about starfish. When she hurt you, there was not enough of you left to be a complete Jane, so you became someone else. Someone who took less effort to grow into.”

“I'm not saying _she's_ right, and stop trying to connect me to Jane.”

“I understand. You may want to know that she's moved to France. You feel more at ease when she's off the continent?”

“No. _She's_ still out there. It just means I'll stay away from Europe. Thanks for the warning.”

“It means nothing to you, I know, but I want to say she never forgave herself.”

“Good.”

“She never told anyone what she did to y-... Jane. I don't need to know. I just want to tell you that you can breathe a little easier now, with her gone and your mysterious blank past at least sketched in.”

A minute of silence.

“ _She_ raped Jane. Not physically, but mentally. _She_ made her do the worst possible thing, and Jane was a good girl and just let her do it.”

“I can't even take that in, and you don't have to try to explain to me. Jane is gone, you are here. It's the way it is.”

“Yeah, life goes on. Or some semblance of it.”

“What will you do now?”

“Keep going forward. Sharks never stop, you know. Is Frankie still looking?”

“Every now and then.”

“He was a good brother, once.” She paused for a long time.   
“I'll tell you something about what happened. Nothing too intimate, OK?”

“OK”

“ _She_ always wanted to change small things. S _it up straighter, Jane. Come with me to yoga. Eat healthier food. Dress nicer._ Small steps but all in the same direction. After the rape, when it was obvious that the affection was not real... there was so little left of the original Jane that there was no point in trying to go on. There was nothing to go back to, with less than half a personality left and no family and no friends. It was much easier to just scrap the wreck and make something new, like you'd do with a crashed car. No-one missed Original Jane anyway. Everyone agreed that _she_ had been good for her, had made her a better person. Nicer, more interesting. Less abrasive. New, pleasant Jane.”

“I liked Original Jane. I liked New Jane too.”

“Original Jane was never good enough. Not for Angela, not for Frank, not for all the assholes at the PD... New Jane had more friends but then New Jane was maybe 2/3 _her_ and not much Jane at all. You might be the only one who misses her.”

“No, her family misses her. I know that for a fact. Frost too.”

“Bullshit. They were only too happy to trade her in for New Jane. Never cared about how Original Jane felt about it. That complete rejection of her real personality.”

“You don't think they could love both? That they were happy to see the transition from one to the other when it was done out of love?”

“Original Jane was a stupid cunt, who let herself get used. I'm not sure she deserves sympathy and I'm damned sure her family doesn't.”

“Maybe you're right. Maybe I couldn't be your friend after all. I loved Original Jane and I don't like that you talk about her like that.”

“So don't be a friend. How about you never call again, OK? Can you manage that?”

“It's a deal. Take care, Catherine, and if you ever see Original Jane somewhere please tell her someone still loves her.”

“If I see her, I'll walk the other way. Bye, detective. Please be a stranger.”

Korsak hung up. He shivered once, then pulled up a dusty bottle of Southern Comfort from a desk drawer. He poured a splash into his coffee mug and raised it in a toast.

“To the memory of Original Jane Rizzoli. Gone, but not forgotten.” He swallowed the sweet liqueur in one gulp and stashed the bottle again, covering it with obsolete report forms. He stared up at the ceiling for a time, and then stood and grabbed his jacket.

“You leaving, lieutenant?” one of the detectives asked him as he crossed the bullpen.

“I'm going to get drunk, I just buried a friend. Best damn detective I ever worked with. See you tomorrow.”   
  
He paused on the stairs outside, thinking about the many deaths of Jane Rizzoli. For once, the Dirty Robber would not be the right place for drinks and a eulogy. He walked away.


End file.
